Prose & Poetry

The brass jingle of a shop bell rang above her as she stepped into the derelict

Sometimes questions mean more than answers.  But Bissell Langley was an answer man.  He had the

It was the summer of his twentieth year when the son of the Great Chieftain died.

            I am standing outside my parents’ bedroom window and there are socks, but no shoes,

and this book is a rose on the deconstruction of constellations into starfall. I have written

I just wish I could visit his grave.  Just to stand by it.  I’d only been

Most of my thoughts prefer to lounge about the attic of my mind. It is finely

Chapter 1 – Love Makes Its Way Although our family was not the richest family of

It was a pleasant morning in our city of Brighton, a town already blessed with so